


Lirica

by MidoriKurenaiYume



Series: Neverending [4]
Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Dialogue, F/M, Family Feels, Light Angst, Missing Scene, Romance, sombre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 04:16:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10654731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidoriKurenaiYume/pseuds/MidoriKurenaiYume
Summary: The night in which Lady Arturia was declared healed after a difficult childbirth and dealt with its consequences, together with her husband.Side-piece to Obbligato.





	Lirica

**Author's Note:**

> This is a missing scene from Obbligato; in particular, it focuses on Arturia and Gilgamesh's feelings after their third child is born.  
> Please remember that the characters are rather OOC.  
> One specific moment was added to this piece because of Nicole_Cover’s comment on Magnolia ;)
> 
> Title: it's a Kalafina song that I like very much and find similar to Obbligato ;) (it's the B-side of their 5th single)

…

…

...

After nursing her child and waiting for her to fall asleep, Arturia retired to her chambers. A few weeks after the birth had passed and, same as her two beloved sons, her precious baby daughter had finally started to sleep at night, even though she was going to need to be nursed again in a mere few hours.

Arturia was feeling rather tired, even though she had scarcely left her apartments since giving birth. She usually only walked the brief distance that separated her from the children’s rooms, and focused on them for the entire day, uncharacteristically avoiding any other person as much as possible.

She had been severely weakened by childbirth, that was true, but she couldn’t use that excuse any longer. Earlier that morning, the physician had visited her, and had confirmed that she was fully recovered.

No matter the fact that he was a competent even if slightly brusque elderly man, seeing him had only glaringly reminded Arturia of what he had told her during his last visit.

She was not going to be able to conceive anymore.

Back to her room, she had just sat down on her bed, but she rapidly stood up again, unable to stay still, and went to lean against the wall next to the window. Her hand came up to rest against the glass, her eyes looking dull and void, as they didn’t focus on anything.

Finding out about the irrevocable changes to her body had been a hard blow. Having children had not necessarily been an objective of hers; it was something that was bound to happen after marriage, at least in their society. She had simply assumed that, by sharing her bed with Gilgamesh, children were eventually going to come. None of her pregnancies had in fact been planned, but all three children had been considered a blessing, both by her and her husband alike, and it had given them an unexpected but still immense form of happiness.

Now, however, it had abruptly come to a change.

There were going to be no more children.

Even though all the gestations had been rather difficult, from there to no longer being able to conceive there was a gap, a gap to the new reality she was still trying to adjust to, because it had created a chaotic swirl of thoughts in her mind, making it impossible for her to behave like her usual self.

She had seen very little of Gilgamesh after her third delivery, for he was not allowed in her rooms as she gave birth. He had come to see his daughter of course, and she believed he had talked to her as she had still been lying in bed, but she had been too exhausted and emotionally drained to hear even a word of what he had said. The physician had later told her that he had remained at her bedside for hours, waiting until she fell asleep, but she had not believed him.

She knew that he came to the nursery several times a day to see his children, but she had always made sure to avoid him. She felt certain that he didn’t want to see her, and she did not intend to make things difficult if that was the case. She was still too shaken for a confrontation of any kind.

She was also sure that Gilgamesh wasn’t going to come to her chambers again. It was a knowledge that saddened her slightly, especially because she had gotten used to sleeping next to him and she already missed his presence, but she wasn’t going to allow that sadness to take over. His leaving her chambers was in her opinion inevitable.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Arturia wasn’t feeling inclined to give any kind of answer – especially since she instantly recognized the knock – but the person outside didn’t seem to need it, because a moment later the doors opened and her husband walked in.

Even though she was rather confused about the reasons for his presence here, she didn’t turn around to face him.

She was still standing next to the window, her hand against the glass; she could feel his stare on her, and heard him approach her slowly.

His fingers suddenly reached for her hand, covering it in his and removing it from the window.

“The glass is icy,” he remarked, a strange note of concern in his voice.

Although that confused her even more, she didn’t give a reply, instead finally averting her eyes from the darkness outside to study him, her green orbs staring at him with an empty expression he had never seen before.

“Why are you here, Gilgamesh?”

He lifted an eyebrow, not missing the fact that she seemed to want to keep him at an emotional distance.

“Why do you believe I’m here, Arturia?”

She didn’t even attempt a smile; her sadness was unmistakable.

“I asked that question because I do not know its answer.”

There was a short pause, and then she continued, her voice low, “You heard what the physician said. I cannot have any more children. Therefore, why are you in my chambers?”

His eyes studied her carefully, a hint of confusion in them.

“I am here to spend the night with you, as always.”

Arturia looked away.

“I cannot bear children anymore,” she repeated. “ _Why_ are you still here?”

His eyes narrowed in a way that surprised her.

“Arturia, while all of our children have been very much welcome, they were not an _objective_. I do not come here with the purpose of having children with you.”

“But you do come here to sleep with me,” she pointed out.

He inclined his head to the side. “Not necessarily.”

She raised both eyebrows, a clear invitation for him to elaborate.

He studied her very carefully once again before suddenly asking, his voice incredulous, “You mean to tell me that for almost three years you have believed that I was coming to your chambers in order to impregnate you?”

She seemed a bit shocked by his language and shook her head rather vehemently.

“No, I don’t! I cannot think that, as you came even when I was already pregnant and kept away only when the physician ordered it because of my condition. But now… now the situation is entirely different.”

She turned away from him, with the intention to concentrate on the darkness outside the window again, but his arms surrounded her waist from behind, pulling her body to his.

“It’s not your womb that keeps me by your side, and it _never_ was – I thought that was obvious.”

He hummed against her cheek, leaning forward to trace her skin with his lips. “I don’t come here with the purpose of sleeping with you, my dearest, nor to conceive. You are my beloved wife, and being away from you at night, but also during the day, isn’t something I enjoy in the least.”

She was silent, as if to judge the truthfulness in his words, and he took advantage of it to kiss her cheek lightly before calmly informing her, “Should it be of interest to you, I think you ought to know that my own birth was a very difficult one. Not only did it make it impossible for my mother to ever conceive again, she was also unable to walk anymore.”

Honestly taken aback, Arturia turned a little in his embrace to meet his eyes in shock.

“I was told that her condition was due to a riding accident,” she said, a little uncertainty in her tone.

Gilgamesh shook his head. Even though he had brought up the subject himself, he knew it wasn’t wise to insist too much on it while his mother wasn’t present.

“She simply didn’t wish to tell anyone the real reason, but you should address her on this the next time you meet her. She will tell you everything.”

His hold on her tightened slightly as he held her gaze firmly. “If you truly wish for me to never touch you again, Arturia, as much as I would dislike that and hope for you to change your mind, I will not go against your decision. But you will not keep me from your rooms. I mean to stay with you every moment I can, and if you’ll only allow me to hold you at night, then so be it.”

A small hint of a smirk curved his lips. “I find it rather pointless for us to have different apartments, as it’s such a waste of space and requires far too long night wanderings. It’s much better to use your chambers, as they are also closer to the children.”

She seemed extremely cautious about what he meant, and she blinked once, trying to wrap her mind around what he was suggesting – which was something unheard of in their society.

“You intend… to move into my chambers permanently?”

His little smirk, now holding a close resemblance to a smile, widened slightly.

“There are no more excuses for the physician to force me to leave your rooms, therefore I don’t mean to leave them at all.” He could see that she was still skeptical, and he went on, “You can keep me from your bed if you so wish, but you will not keep me from your chambers, Arturia, for no amount of social rules will make me change my mind on this.”

“But… you…” She struggled with both her words and her thoughts, trying to make sense of what he husband was telling her, and while at first he seemed amused at her difficulty, he soon turned serious again.

“There is nothing mysterious about the fact that I care more about you than about anyone else,” he simply stated, making her widen her eyes in speechlessness.

Yet it seemed that, even after reminding her of his affection, there was still something else troubling her, as her eyes still had a well-hidden, but visible nonetheless, dark shadow in them.

Guessing that it was about what the physician had told her, he leaned down to press his lips against hers briefly, before asking, “What else is on your mind, Arturia?”

She was now facing him fully, his arms still around her to keep her close to him, but while she didn’t make any move to try to free herself, she did look slightly on edge.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly replied, “Our children are very young and, although they are healthy at the moment, that doesn’t mean they will remain so. And since there will be no more of them…”

“You told me yourself that having children wasn’t something you wished for in the first place,” he stated, frowning at her words, but she shook her head.

It was then that he understood that she was no longer talking about having _more_ children; she was now talking about the survival of the children they _had_.

Arturia knew perfectly how ephemeral life could be. She had come from a rather large family; her mother had died when she had been little, her brothers had all died because of fevers, one after the other, and she had then lost her father to an infection mere weeks before their second son’s birth. It was clear that the thought that her husband or her own children could very well be next was consuming her.

“We have three children,” she uttered in a low voice. “But I constantly fear for their health and their life, for I can’t help remembering that I had _four_ brothers, Gilgamesh…” her voice almost cracked, even though she managed to control it, “…and they are all dead now.”

Her words had finally clarified what her real, deep anxieties were; however, it was only the sight of her slightly trembling hands that made him realize how truly distressed she was.

His own hands attempted to reach hers, but she pulled back, making herself stop trembling out of sheer force of will. She was too proud to let her husband comfort her in a moment she considered to be of weakness, and while he understood that, it wasn’t going to stop him from telling her the truth.

“Don’t believe that I don’t fear the same,” he replied, and his admission couldn’t have been more astonishing for her. “Fevers could take them, but anyone with malicious intentions could do the same. What I indeed fear the most is anyone or anything make an outrageous attempt to take you or our children from me – and I can’t stand the fact that right now you are trying to keep away from me _yourself_.”

Startled, she shook her head, coming closer to him again, this time allowing him to grasp her hands in his.

“That’s not what I’m doing,” she argued, in earnest. “I am just pointing out that right now, our children need us the most.”

“They do, as they are very young still,” he smoothly agreed. “But that doesn’t mean that _I_ don’t need you. Don’t pretend you don’t know how precious you are to me.”

He had learned the hard lesson of truly valuing what he had after losing his best friend; he was _not_ going to leave his wife in doubt about his sincere affection and regard, not even if she tried to keep an emotional distance between them.

Leaning forward once again, when he found her lips, he was elated to find her now answering to his kiss without the slightest hesitation, and he savoured every moment of it.

The loud sound of an infant crying interrupted their slow yet deep kiss, and he reluctantly removed his hand from her cheek where it had gone to caress her face.

As she had not changed into her nightgown yet, Arturia slightly lifted her dress’s heavy gowns to be able to walk more swiftly towards the nursery, and he followed her, opening the door for them both. Before entering the room from which three different crying sounds were now coming, she hesitated, as she knew that all three children needed attention but the youngest needed a special one.

“Have you ever seen a child being nursed?”

Gilgamesh looked at her and frowned. “You don’t wish to be seen?”

She shook her head in denial, seeming however a little embarrassed. “That isn’t the case. I mean, if you…”

Amused, he invited her to enter the room before him. He knew very well that his wife had firmly refused a wet nurse for all of their children, but even if he had often been in the kids’ rooms – as he had every intention of being involved in their education – he had never seen her actually nurse them.

“I will quiet the boys, as I cannot provide what our daughter needs right now.”

Her cheeks heated up, but she didn’t have the time to make a comment of any kind, because seeing Gilgamesh occupied with two identical miniatures of himself always managed to make her heart skip a beat. All three children had inherited their father’s deep crimson eyes, making sure that no rumour would dare question their paternity.

Holding her hungry little daughter to her breasts, she was only mildly aware of her husband managing to calm the two excited boys and making them fall asleep. After all, even if it still surprised her, he had a way with them.

As soon as it was satisfied, the baby yawned and its small fists closed around the hem of Arturia’s dress; she gently disentangled the little fingers as she rocked her daughter to sleep, all the while managing to tie up the complicated straps of her dress again.

She didn’t even realize that Gilgamesh had been staring at her the entire time, at least not until she put her now sleeping daughter back in her cradle.

“What is the matter?” she asked, puzzled by his strange expression.

He seemed to turn genuinely pensive at the question, and then he gave her a small smile before coming to her and pulling her into his embrace.

“I never thought I would ever do this, but I am now seriously considering _thanking_ my parents and King Enlil for making me marry you.”

...

…

…

**Author's Note:**

> Just in case you're wondering, I didn't give Arturia and Gilgamesh's children any names simply because they don't have enough space in the story, and because it honestly takes me ages to decide on names.  
> Thank you very much for reading this series! :))


End file.
